Priorities

I'm not sure who first coined the phrase, 'The Tyranny of the Urgent'.

Nor who first drew the distinction between the 'important' and the 'urgent'.

Nor do I even recall when I first had an 'aha!' moment as I understood, in my soul, the difference. Living in the twenty-first century, it seems that we are surrounded constantly by the 'urgent'. Emails, text messages, Facebook status updates, online forums, blogs to follow. The faster one comments or replies, the quicker another incoming message appears. I've mostly resisted Twitter, and hope to continue to do so, since it seems that one could spend one's entire life 'tweeting' (or reading other people's tweets).

When one has children at home, there are plenty of urgent demands, most of which are also fairly important. A baby needs feeding, or changing, and the best thing for all concerned is to meet the baby's demands at once. Gone, thankfully, are the days when mothers were advised to feed only on schedule, and leave the baby screaming if he was hungry at any other time.

There are urgent needs for older children, too. What parent hasn't dropped everything on hearing a piercing yell? Or to race to the bathroom, when their toddler announces, 'I need to pee'? As our children mature, we still structure our time around them and their activities; if combined with work outside the home, lives become even busier. We schedule meetings at school, or church; business dinners; and the endless rounds of shopping, cooking, cleaning up and laundry.

Some new parents remember to schedule a few evenings to relax with friends, or even the occasional 'date-night' with a babysitter left in charge. But as the 'urgent' seeps into every moment of the day, it's all too easy, when finding a spare half-hour, to collapse in front of the television, or scroll through social media. Or perhaps a mindless computer game. Anything to distract our minds from the busy-ness of the day, and the further demands that will no doubt take up our full attention again soon. Clichés abound: the rat-race, the treadmill, the daily grind.

Is this how life should be? Is this 'life in all its fulness' that Jesus promised those who love him?

it doesn't seem that way to me. I'm fortunate - or very blessed, depending on your viewpoint - in that I was able to give up work when our first son was born. When we moved abroad, twenty-five years ago, I started home educating our sons. Perhaps for the first time as a family we had time to pause, to think about the reasons for education, to establish some priorities. We read books together, sometimes for hours. We played family board games. Certainly there were days when we all got caught up in our computers, or 'urgent' tasks, and the boys were often busy with a wide range of activities. But we talked, and we walked, and we pondered, and generally slowed down.

My personal tendency is towards inertia anyway, rather than activity. So I loved this new, more relaxed lifestyle. As the boys grew older, and more responsible for their own activities, I needed to do less and less for them. Cooking and laundry continued of course, but with the help of my many electrical kitchen 'servants', they weren't too onerous, other than in the height of summer when the heat and humidity made anything difficult. 

And yet, how easy it was to get caught up in the online world - to check email every five minutes, to amass Facebook friends, and follow their links, and comment on their updates. To take part in online forums and discussions, answering questions - with the motivation of helping others - and to read endless blogs. There is so much at our fingertips, so much we can read, or learn, without ever leaving the comfort of our computer chairs. The urgent still pounds at our minds, and we don't even realise it.

What is the alternative? Whether working to earn money, or in a supported ministry, or raising a family, or even retired... is it possible to push aside most of the urgent demands and focus on what is important? How do we even discover what IS important? How can we prioritise our days? And if we do - if we start with the important, and then flesh out our lives with the urgent, how do we avoid burnout?

Jesus told us, nearly 2000 years ago, that we should love God, and love other people. We've heard this so often that it doesn't seem particularly radical any more. The first century people - mostly Jews - who heard this, were used to having to follow hundreds of regulations in the hope of meeting God's approval. Laws about hygiene, about eating, about what they could do on the Sabbath... some from Scripture, some rules established by their leaders. Jesus said that love was more important than any of them.

As Christians we don't worry about whether switching on a light is 'work' or not. We don't spend our days having to refer to hundreds or minor rules, in case we offend God. Instead, we get caught up in hundreds of distractions that don't, in themselves, lead us away from God, but which frequently make us forget about God altogether.

Love God. That's what matters. Do what we know God wants us to do, avoid what we know God does not want us to do. Tell God when we mess up, ask for forgiveness, make reparation if necessary, and move on. Listen for the voice of God, and follow our inner promptings. Take time during the day to pause, and reflect, and know that we are loved. Easier said than done, of course. 

And love other people. Our 'neighbours' as the older translations of the Bible put it. Our fellow human beings. Relationships should always be our priority. Not schedules, or organisations, or rules and regulations, but people.

For those who are married, the first priority (after God) must be their spouse. Children or work commitments may give more urgent demands, but it's vital to spend time with the person we promised to love for the rest of our lives. Having to schedule a 'date-night' just to hang out and talk is a little sad - we should be communicating and hanging out together regularly, at home. But if the 'urgent' demands of other people in the home make that difficult, then it's probably a good idea. God gave us our husbands or wives as companions, lovers, friends. There is no more important human relationship.

Children - if we have them - are next. We bring them into the world, and must guide them, encourage them, hug them, spend time with them, and - eventually - let them go.

Parents, friends (on or offline), next-door neighbours, colleagues, needy acquaintances, people on the supermarket checkouts, beggars in the street... all these are people whom we are also supposed to love. And since we don't have the time or emotional energy to deal with all of them every day, then we must listen to God, trusting each day - each moment - that we will know where we are to be, whom we should relate to, what we should do.

I wrote the bulk of this post twelve years ago, and couldn't find a way of concluding. I've updated a little, to take account of the passing of the years. But I don't know that I've got any better at working out what's important. There are fewer 'urgent' demands on my time, but more ways to get distracted.  

I read recently a helpful distinction between what's primarily important in general terms (love God, love other people), what principles we should always follow (truthfulness, generosity, kindness and so on), and what specific things each individual should be doing, day by day - and it's the last one that will vary from person to person. But it's also the hardest thing (in my view) to determine .

When I turned 50 I quipped that I still didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up.  More than a decade later, that's still the case. 

Rules, Regulations, Laws and Principles

Chatting with a friend, nearly a decade ago, the topic of rules came up. She said that the one thing that made her uncomfortable with the Harry Potter books was the way that the 'good' guys seem to break rules regularly, and never suffer any kind of consequences. My comment was that this is pretty common in the British 'school story' genre in general. There's an understood difference between rules (which are fine to break, at times, so long as one is prepared for possible retribution) and general principles of loyalty and sportsmanship, which should always be adhere to.

I put this down, at first, to growing up in British culture where we see almost everything in shades of grey rather than strict black vs white or right vs wrong. In many cases, the ends justify the means, in my view. So if Harry and his friends sneak out at night under the cloak of invisibility, knowingly breaking school rules, it's fine from a moral standpoint, because they are doing it for a higher purpose: seeing a lonely friend, or rescuing a condemned animal, or finding something out that will save many lives.

I then started pondering on the differences between rules and laws. Googling the two suggests that the difference is essentially in the consequence of breaking them: lawbreakers may end up in jail, or with hefty fines. Rule-breaking is less of a problem. Other definitions are perhaps more helpful: a law is something passed by the government of a country for the protection of the people. Rules are for specific situations, more arbitrary and may much more easily be changed.

We don't always distinguish them so clearly; we talk about 'rules of the road', for instance, when we're referring to laws governing the behaviour of drivers. And yet there's a sense in which they are arbitrary. It's a convention to drive on the left (or right) of the road, to stick to specific speeds in different situations, to overtake on one side rather than the other. 

These rules are drawn up for the safety of the drivers, but on occasion it might be safer to drive over the speed limit (if a dangerously fast driver is too close on a motorway and there's no way to move), or to drive on the wrong side (if an out-of-control driver is weaving around the street where you should be, and nobody else is coming). The principles of safety and avoiding accidents are more important - at that moment - than the official rules.

And that's a third abstract term, one I referred to in the first paragraph: principles. In most cases there are no laws or rules saying that people should be kind, or loyal, or generous. We could call these things morals or ethics. They may come from Christian or other religious beliefs, or from general humanitarianism. I believe they are part of the 'law' which the apostle Paul spoke of as written on everybody's hearts (Romans 2:13-15).

I take as a starting point that there are broad 'good' principles which we are all aware of intuitively from an early age. Parents are expected to be loving, to provide for their offspring's needs, to comfort them when they are hurt. A toddler knows when something is 'unfair', or when another child is 'mean' (even if he, in his turn, is equally unfair and mean; toddlers are, after all, naturally self-centred). Jesus summed up the Jewish law in two overriding principles: love God, and love other people. 

I have written at length about how so many Christians seem to ignore these commands. I wonder if this may be due to the confusion between principles, laws and rules. Love is an overriding principle. Loving God, doing good and keeping healthy are the main reason for most of the original laws and commandments in the Hebrew Bible.

But not everybody likes following general principles. There are those who want to know exactly how far they can go before they are veering away from it. What does it mean to keep the Sabbath holy, or not to bear false witness? Thousands of tiny rules and regulations were drawn up by priests, in Old Testament times, to ensure that the Sabbath was kept holy and free of work. Jesus blew that apart: the Sabbath was supposed to be a day of rest, to remember God; not one of worrying about whether or not it was 'work' to pick a grain of corn, or heal a man's hand.

When we have small children, we have to make specific rules to keep them safe. A two-year-old might be told he must NEVER go into the street without holding an adult's hand. Do we really mean 'never'? Of course not. By the time he's five or six, he will have learned to be more careful. Perhaps, on quiet minor streets, he is permitted to cross by himself. By nine or ten, depending on his awareness, he may be free of street-crossing rules. They are there to serve a purpose, to protect the child; they may be queried at any time, and may be discussed or changed as the child matures. Rules are not absolutes, nor are they guarantees of safety.

Back to the fictional Hogwarts school situation: in any institution there must be general principles of care for others. So it makes sense to have rules about not running in busy corridors, for instance, or curfews at boarding schools, to ensure all students are safely indoors at night. In order that all students are able to study and learn as they wish, it makes sense for teachers to expect quiet conditions with students sitting in their places during lessons. Some schools allow more discussion than others; a few have the freedom to attend or not attend classes.

However, these are all rules - guidelines for behaviour, to enable everyone to learn. They are not laws; nor are they principles. The main principle at stake here is one of respect for everyone else. There are greater principles too; if somebody collapses suddenly, or has a fit, it would be entirely appropriate for a student to run as fast as possible through the corridors to fetch help, or to call out to get the teacher's attention.

Rules are not 'made to be broken', as the old saying has it; but they are subject to higher principles and guidelines. A child raised in a loving, respectful and open home will know when to query rules and when it's appropriate to put them aside. They should also start to assimilate the guiding principles of morality: it's not just against the rules to take things from Mum's purse or Dad's wallet, it's morally wrong to steal in general. 

There's a law against stealing, in almost every country, with legal consequences for those who are caught contravening the law (in some cases quite harsh). The law forbidding stealing is an example of the principles of ownership - of being entitled to one's property. However, that should balance the principle of generosity - that those who have a lot should find ways of sharing or benefiting those who have nothing. If the principle of love for other people was fully understood and observed, we wouldn't need laws (although rules, in some circumstances, would still be needed). 

On Flexitarianism

I like to think of myself as an ethical person. I don’t want people or animals to be abused, and if I saw it happening I hope I would do something to stop it. However we live in a corrupt world, where abuse happens all the time, in multiple ways. I don’t condone it, but when I try to work out what I can do - or not do - about it, it becomes overwhelming.

There are child slaves picking coffee and cocoa beans under terrible conditions in some African and South American countries. There are adult slaves making clothes under even worse conditions in Asian countries. There are animals treated appallingly to provide meat and dairy products all around the world. And that’s without even starting on the way rainforests are being torn down, and the earth’s resources used up, having a long-term negative effect not just on humans but on the indigenous animals and birds.

Some people choose to live off the grid entirely, to grow their own produce, weave their own cloth, make their own clothes. While some develop their own rigid systems that can lead to different kinds of abuse, I have an overriding admiration for those who can follow a simple lifestyle, knowing that they’re not causing added pain to anyone outside their community. But we’re not all called to that kind of living.

So, as an ordinary 21st century woman, I admit that I like using kitchen appliances and technology. I stop sometimes and wonder: were they made by slaves in China?

I don’t know.

I’m not proud of that fact, but most modern equipment is made of so many components that it’s impossible to guarantee ethical sourcing.

What of clothes? I tend to buy from inexpensive and second-hand sources. I don’t have any interest in designer labels or spending large amounts on clothing. Pre-owned clothes are good from the renewable resource point of view, but were they originally made by slaves?

I don’t know.

I stopped shopping at one discount store in the UK when it was publicised widely that its suppliers included slaves. But is there any guarantee that other shops are any better? If high prices are charged, does that mean that the people at the far end of the chain were paid a good wage? Or does it simply mean that the suppliers and shop owners are raking in bigger profits?

I don’t know.

Then there’s the controversial topic of food. I have avoided, for some years, buying products from one particular company whom we are aware have some dubious ethical practices. But are others any better, or are they simply more able to hide their dubious practices?

I don’t know.

A few years ago we made the effort to buy only Fair Trade coffee and chocolate. We expanded that to include items stamped with the sustainable agriculture or ‘green’ logos. Companies that work with the environment are generally working towards fairer trading and wages, even if they have not yet achieved the necessary standard for the Fair Trade stamp. But living in Cyprus, it’s not always possible to find items that we know to be fairly traded.

Where possible we buy locally produced fruit and vegetables. That’s partly for selfish reasons, as they tend to taste better. It’s also partly to reduce our carbon footprint at least slightly. Besides, supporting the local economy seems like a good thing to do on the whole…

… Yet all that is just a tiny drop in the ocean of doing our bit to reduce the abuse of other humans.

When we try also to avoid animals abuse, further problems arise. We have many friends who are vegetarians (including some family members) and a few who are vegan. Some follow these diets for health reasons, some due to personal preference, some for the sake of economy or the environment. And then there are those who are vegan or vegetarian for ethical reasons. Some of them are very vocal on social networks. Are animals subjected to horrific treatment and pain for the sake of meat-eating humans? Undoubtedly they are, in much of the world. Pigs are considered as intelligent as dogs, yet most of us in the West would not consider torturing dogs or eating dog meat. Cows are gentle, caring animals, suffering abuse not just for the sake of meat but for the vast dairy industry: forced into repeated pregnancies, having their calves taken away from them at a young age so that they can be milked by machines, to provide daily pintas.

Until perhaps ten or fifteen years ago, I hadn’t thought much about this. I always knew that I would not be able to kill an animal myself. If I lived alone, my preference would be vegetarianism, but in part that’s because I’m not a great fan of meat anyway. But I had seen farm animals grazing on British hillsides, and thought idly that they wouldn’t be alive at all if it weren’t for farmers breeding them for the sake of meat. I had assumed that the slaughtering process was, if regrettable, at least humane.

I’m part of a family who, on the whole, eat and serve quite a bit of meat. Some of them become depressed if they don’t eat meat at least two or three times per week. While some people thrive as vegetarians or vegans, others seem to need to eat meat of some kind. If I have to prepare meat dishes for family members, it’s extra effort to make vegetarian ones too. I’ll do it for friends or family; it feels a bit selfish to do it just for myself. So over the years I’ve learned to compromise.

So I cook fish or poultry three or four times each week. If I make something with beef mince, such as chili con carne, or enchiladas, I make myself something similar based on beans or lentils rather than meat. We’re dairy-free because my husband finds that cow products make his ears block up, but we eat free-range eggs. I don’t cook steaks or chops or use any lamb or pork (except for occasional sausages for visitors) but when visitors treat us to a meal out, my husband will eat meat while I choose a vegetarian option.

My other inclination is towards natural products - cooking with ingredients rather than buying anything processed. I grew up in a household where almost everything was cooked from scratch, and home-cooked food tastes so much better than most ready-made versions. When I had small children at home I sometimes bought pre-made products, to save time. But over the years I’ve moved increasingly towards cooking everything from ingredients. This is partly as I’ve learned more about doing so, and partly as processed foods seem to attract more and more potentially toxic additives. I suffer migraines if I eat anything containing MSG or its derivatives, soya products, nitrites, sulphites, aspartame or - alas! - Marmite. That’s a very good, if self-centred reason to buy and use only pure products with minimal processing.

Still, I keep ready-made sheets of puff pastry in the freezer for the occasions when I need it. I buy ready-made tortillas and pittas, although I could make them myself, because they’re so much more convenient. And - so far, at any rate - I buy ready-made mayonnaise, as the home-made version is quite complex to produce.

I learned a few years ago that what I consider regular cooking with ingredients is known as ‘clean eating’, and is a trend in its own right rather than most people’s default. But I didn’t have a label for my style of mostly vegetarian with some animal products now and again. Then I learned that this, too, has a name: flexitarianism. The idea is a mostly plant-based diet, with flesh foods a few times a week. When people write books and websites giving ‘flexitarian diets’ they’re not much different from the so-called ‘Mediterranean’ diet, which has been touted as the ideal for good health for many years.

I find it a tad ironic that so many people want regimes and lists for the ‘flexitarian diet’. Yet the same itself implies flexibility. Questions flood forums and other sites: Isn’t it just vegetarianism with cheating? What is ‘allowed’ on a flexitarian diet? Can we eat meat if someone else cooks it for us? How many times a day can we eat eggs…?

It doesn’t work that way. My eating preferences fit into flexitarianism nicely, and my meat-loving husband is fine with it too. If we’re staying with relatives who cook roast beef on Sunday, I’ll eat a little, and pile my plate with vegetables. It’s not like militant veganism; I’m not trying to convert anybody else to my style of eating. I do think it has health benefits. I also think that the dairy-industry is cruel nowadays, but I was aware of that before we stopped using cow’s milk products. I still eat ordinary cheese when offered it in other people’s houses. Does this make me a hypocrite? Perhaps.

I didn’t think much more about my style, having found a name for it. Then a week or so back a worrying report was published, from top scientists, on the topic of global warming. Whether or not this phenomenon is connected to a natural cycle, as some claim, there seems little doubt that global temperatures are increasing at an all-too-rapid rate. Moreover, this could be reduced if sufficient people and organisations take action. Many strategies are proposed, including widespread use of sustainable energy and reduction in fuel usage.

But the most important recommended change, a little to my surprise, is in the way we eat. Avoiding meat and dairy products, according to the report, is the single biggest way to avoid a negative impact on the earth. According to this analysis, meat and dairy provide only 18% of people’s calories globally, and 37% of their protein. But livestock uses 83% of farmland around the world, and produces 60% of agriculture’s greenhouse gas emissions.

The leader of the research, a scientist at Oxford University, stated that, ‘A vegan diet is probably the single biggest way to reduce your impact on planet Earth.’ He began the research in the hope of finding the most sustainable sources of animal products. As a result of his research, he has stopped consuming animal products altogether. Other scientists around the world agree with his conclusions, but realise that veganism would be too big a step for the majority of people. Vegetarianism which includes milk products would not help.

So many scientists are recommending a gradual decrease of animal products in our diets, while - as doctors and other health experts have been saying for a long time - we should all increase our consumption of plant-based foods. The word ‘flexitarianism’ is in the news, and people who like to follow the latest trends are asking what exactly it entails.

For once in my life, I am doing something that’s not only scientifically recommended and at least somewhat ethical, it's actually fashionable.

On Thankfulness

I'm reading a book about thankfulness, at the moment. The author talks about how she made a decision to find 1000 gifts - or graces - for which she could be thankful. Not, she hastens to assure the readers, in a 'Pollyanna' way, but truly honouring God for what he gives us daily, weekly, or just occasionally.

I decided to start writing a list myself. On the first day I easily came up with about sixty items - mostly people - for which I am thankful, without much thought. I listed many family and friends, and other individuals who have been instrumental in my learning and growing over the years. I listed other random things as they occurred to me: chocolate, books, beanbags, coffee, our new bathroom. There is much which I take for granted, but in global terms I am wealthy and have a great deal more than most.

On the second day, I slowed a little, jotting down names of authors who have inspired or encouraged me, abstract concepts such as laughter and love, small pleasures such as walking along a nature trail, playing with my grandson, stroking a cat. I thought of scents and sounds, of the evidence of God in all creation.

On the third day, it felt harder; I started listing individual fruits and vegetables for which I'm thankful, board games I like to play, books I have enjoyed reading. I didn't remember everything I had listed on the first day, and it started to feel like a chore.

On the fourth day, I didn't write anything down, but I thought of some of the things I had previously listed; even if I never come up with more than 180 'things' it's a lot to be thankful for. And I found that, starting the day by being thankful, I continued the day feeling grateful for those around me, for my health, for the comfort of my home. When I am deliberately being thankful, it's much harder to feel anxious or irritable or frustrated.

The Bible is full of exhortations to be thankful. Here's a list of Bible verses about thankfulness; skimming down, some aren't directly about thanks, but it's simpler to refer to this than come up with my own. Paul gave thanks even when in prison, and started all his letters by thanking God for those he was writing to, for gifts he had been given, for the responsibility he had to spread the good news.

We Christians should be known for our love, but also for being thankful people, acknowledging God in all we are, all we have, and all he has given us. I know there will be occasions in future when I won't feel at all thankful, but that's all the more reason to get into the habit of gratefulness now, when there is so much to be thankful for.

Categorising (or 'Us and Them')

Skimming through this blog, I noticed that almost exactly two years ago I wrote a post entitled 'Normality and Judgement'. It was about the way we tend to make generalisations and assumptions, and how important it is to be open to different cultural and generational traditions and habits, without compromising our faith and what we understand to be ethically important.

I'm currently reading an excellent book: 'Disunity in Christ' by Christina Cleveland. She's an American academic who writes in a very readable and accessible way, and I'm finding much to ponder. An early chapter discusses the way that we categorise things and people around us, and ways sociologists and psychologists describe this.

Categorisation is extremely useful in many situations: we need to know that something is (for instance) edible or not edible. A baby doesn't know this distinction and will often put non-edible items in his mouth to explore. Likewise a young toddler, seeing a four-legged object, doesn't necessarily know whether it's a chair for sitting on, or a table which should not be sat upon. Our grandson, at eighteen months, used a step-stool as a table. When one of the adults with him showed him that it could be sat on, he tried to climb on the coffee table to sit on that.

When we categorise other people, however, we can run into danger. That's not to say that it's always a bad idea: we are aware, for instance, that an elderly person might move slowly and could be somewhat hard of hearing and we make allowances for that. When we hear a certain accent, we have a good idea of where someone might come from. We assume that taxi drivers are competent in their vehicles and probably good at knowing the neighbourhood. When we want building work done on the house, and cannot (or don't want to) do it ourselves, we call a builder.

However we also make generalisations based on stereotypes and hearsay. The Japanese (we assume) eat sushi. The British (we are told) drink tea. People of one religion (it's believed) are peace-loving, people of another religion violent. Graffiti (we imagine) is probably the result of a young and disillusioned person getting hold of a can of spray paint.  And so on. In some cases there is more than a grain of truth in our assumptions.

But not always.

We are Brits who do not drink tea. Any religion is likely to attract a few violent types and some non-confrontational pacifist types, and large numbers of people who are somewhere in between. I'm sure there are some Japanese folk who loathe sushi. And I see no reason why an elderly lady in a wheelchair shouldn't be a secret graffiti artist...

Does that last sentence cause you to shake your head a little, thinking I've gone too far? And yet, why not? Why should it be assumed that young people are likely to deface their environment and old people (who were young themselves once) wouldn't do such a thing?

According to the book I'm reading, there's a tendency to align ourselves with people who are like us in some respects, while avoiding, as far as possible, those who are different. Inevitably we belong to or develop interest-related groups: that's not a bad thing in itself. An orchestra consists of people who are musical and like playing together; a gathering of philatelists isn't going to be enhanced by people who have no interest in stamps.

The problem occurs when we assume only positive things about 'us' and our 'in group', and negative things about everyone else. And we do it, the author tells us, to help us feel more comfortable about ourselves.

As I was reading about this, I felt a tension in my neck, a tightness in my chest. Surely this doesn't apply to everyone? I thought. Yes, I can see that there's a great deal of aggression around the world and negative assumptions about 'others' can certainly contribute to it. But we're not all like that. Some of us are quite able to accept anyone and everyone.

Then something was mentioned that was specifically relevant to the USA, and my shoulders relaxed as I remembered the author's nationality. Ah, I thought, she's writing about Americans here. Americans see things in extremes, in black and white, whereas we Brits...

I caught myself mid-thought. There I was, categorising 'Americans' as 'them'. Which is quite unfair as I know it's a stereotype: some of my closest friends hail from the United States and are not judgemental at all.  But still, the generalisation is in my psyche; and yes, for a moment I took comfort in being in group that didn't categorise negatively.

The good thing, apparently, is that all we need to do to overcome this tendency is to be aware of it. It may take time and effort, but so long as we stay open-minded, and realise that generalisations and categorisations are at best limited and at worst untrue, then we're moving in a less judgemental direction.

As an INFJ 'Idealist', one of my important values is knowing that everyone is a unique and valuable individual, and I don't believe it's right or helpful to judge or negatively categorise anyone at all, even those I find most difficult to relate to, or whom I understand the least...

... in other words, 'we' are those who accept everyone, and 'they' are the ones who categorise and judge....

Hmmm.